


Case 10: The Adventure Of Samson's Hair (1877)

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [16]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Christmas, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, False Accusations, Family, Friendship, Johnlock - Freeform, Justice, London, M/M, Prostitution, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes, Wigs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 12:17:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16326092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: ֍ If Holmes' family was not 'interesting' enough already, his friend Watson is unexpectedly exposed to another member - one of the most successful businessman in London who asks him for help over an attempt to frame 'one of his boys'.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lyster99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyster99/gifts).



> TW: This story contains a non-graphic reference to a false rape accusation.

_[Narration by Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Esquire]_

It was December again which meant that London was full of people planning their Christmas festivities. For me this was always a difficult time of the year as my mother asked (commanded) that we attend her and endure a family meal. If I was really unlucky she might even have a new story that she wanted to inflict on us. I rarely went to church but I prayed fervently around that time for some divine favour. Or at least a sudden attack of deafness!

Talking of family, I had a curious encounter with my brother Luke at the gymnasium that we both used. I told him about my recent investigations in Richmond and Hampshire, and he looked surprised for some reason.

“What?” I asked.

“You paid for your friend to attend a sports final, then took him to see a cathedral that had absolutely zero interest to you”, he said. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

I swatted at him.

“Watson is my friend”, I said. “He deserves that good things should happen to him from time to time, especially considering all the good he does in his work as a doctor.”

He just looked at me but said nothing. Honestly, a gentleman was allowed to have a gentleman friend!

Fittingly enough friends and family would be a theme for a case that spanned the festive season and ultimately spared me the ordeal this particular year. Unfortunately in doing so it provided me with something almost as bad, as my dear friend Watson had to be exposed to one of the slightly less respectable sides of my bloodline – even by Holmes standards!

֍

The first sign of trouble came on the Saturday three days before the great day. We had gone out for a pleasant walk in the direction of Regent's Park and had returned to the house to find that we had missed a caller. Normally I would have examined the card that the caller had left but Watson's present to me that year (which he had kindly let me have early) was a small coffee-making set to which I now always headed on my return from our walks. I graciously allowed my friend the slight smile at my eagerness to get at my caffeine and set about making us both drinks.

“A Mr. Campbell Kerr has called”, he said reading the card.

I did not think that I had given myself away but I had forgotten that my friend was both a good observer and, irritatingly at times like these, increasingly skilled in reading my various moods. He looked curiously at me.

“Do you know the fellow?” he asked.

I hesitated.

“He is my half-brother”, I said at last.

I could sense his surprise without even turning round.

“You never mentioned another sibling?” he said, clearly puzzled. “And why is he a Kerr rather than a Holmes?”

“My father married his mother Miss Charlotte Kerr as his first wife”, I explained. “She died giving birth to Campbell and my father never felt for him what fathers are supposed to feel for their eldest sons. He is.... sometimes a little weak like that.”

I winced internally. Incredibly the conversation was now headed somewhere even more dangerous. I hurried on.

“My father's father-in-law was Mr. Jameson Kerr, a very rich man who had a huge estate up in Scotland”, I said. “Campbell was his only descendant so he wished to raise the boy as his blood. My father was reluctant but then he met my mother who.... she persuaded him.”

Watson winced. He knew as well as I did what that meant. Ugh!

“Poor Campbell became proof that money does not always buy happiness”, I said quickly. “His grandfather forced him into what turned out to be an unhappy marriage when he was but eighteen, back in 'Sixty-Three. She thought that she had his grandfather wrapped round her little finger as the saying goes and six years ago when he died she divorced Campbell, only to find that she had been very wrong. The money was all left to her husband and she got one farthing – and a copy of the records that showed her late father-in-law had seen through her all along. She thankfully went abroad – I think but I cannot be sure that Campbell may have 'paid her off' as they say - and he has since become a successful businessman in London.”

Watson looked at me curiously.

“Yet you have never spoken of him”, he said. “Why?”

This was going to be tricky. Watson had little in the way of politics – like me he believed that politicians were like baby's nappies in that they needed to be changed regularly for much the same reason – but he was definitely conservative with a small 'c' and he might not take well to what I was about to spring on him. 

I was still wondering how to word matters when a maid came to the door and informed us that our gentleman caller from earlier was back and wished to know if we might receive him immediately. Sighing at the unfairness of the world, I agreed.

֍

No-one who saw myself and Campbell together would have assumed that we were related. He was six foot six inches tall, very muscular, had curly red hair and was in many ways the archetypal Celtic warrior, right down to the red and green Kerr kilt he wore. He was at thirty-three years of age some ten years my senior and in the prime of his life. He greeted us affably enough and, I noted, sat down rather carefully. I knew all too well why that was.

God owed me big time for this!

“I did not know that Holmes had a half-brother”, Watson smiled. “He said that you are a businessman?”

“That I am”, Campbell smiled. “Indeed it is my business that brings me here today.”

I allowed myself a silent glare heavenwards. I just could not catch a break! 

“Your work at a molly-house?” Watson asked.

I stared at him in shock. He smiled at me.

“This is London”, he said. “I have seen rather more than my country cousins when it comes to certain lifestyles. And your half-brother exhibits several signs of being in the 'trade' some of whose members I have had to treat, often for quite several injuries.”

I scowled at him. My half-brother chuckled.

“I actually own several such places”, he said, “although with my physique I am sometimes in demand. No, it is poor Colt who brings me here today. He is being accused of raping some woman at a party last night, which is of course impossible.”

“Who is Colt?” Watson asked.

“Mr. Colgrevance Hamlin”, Campbell said. “A strapping fellow in his late twenties; one of my best boys. He is what they call a mute which is bad but I suppose better than some names I have heard; oddly he can talk but chooses not to. He is known to our visitors as Samson because of his long hair although the boys call him 'Silent Knight' to which I might have objected to but which he apparently likes. Indeed it is his silence which is part of the trouble.”

“Please explain”, I said.

“Four of the boys including Colt were asked to work as wait staff at a gentleman's party last night”, Campbell began. “Lord Greening's place, Rempstone House.”

“He is an important member of the House of Lords”, I explained to Watson, “whose friends could make life for the government decidedly more interesting if they so chose. A most unpleasant individual, bigoted to the core. I take it, Campbell, that your boys knew how the evening would likely progress?”

“For what they were being paid, they knew”, my half-brother said shortly. “I did not want to send Colt – he does not do well in social situations – but they wanted four of our tallest men. I only wish I could have gone instead but I had an important client to see to.”

“Anyone important?” Watson smiled.

“Minor European royalty”, Campbell said dismissively. “They certainly do things very differently in some parts of the Continent, although he paid well. But back to the party and the disaster that ensued from it. Our boys did what they had to do with who paid for it and all returned home, seemingly fine. Then this morning we had the police round. Normally they are not a problem since.... well, enough of them use our services to make any investigation problematic for them, to say the least. But Lord Greening's daughter Juliana was claiming that Colt had raped her. The devil of it is that he cannot really defend himself, which I suspect was why he was targeted.”

I thought for a while.

“Is he under arrest?” I asked.

“That is another odd thing”, my half-brother said. “He is not.”

I pressed my fingers together. This next part was going to be difficult.

“Has anyone approached you about the case?” I asked.

“They have not”, Campbell said. “Why would they?”

“Because I suspect that that is what is behind this ramp”, I said. “Your local station is Goodge Street, is it not?”

“Yes?”

“I shall ask my friend Henriksen if he can persuade the men there to bring Colt in for questioning”, I said. 

“Why would you do that?” Watson asked.

“Because Inspector Williamson there is ambitious”, I said, “and will not want to risk anything that will endanger his push for promotion. And a case that falls apart in front of him – as this one very soon will – would not look good. Oh and I shall need to borrow Colt for an afternoon.”

Campbell was clearly surprised by that.

“To help clear his name”, I said. “I shall of course pay the usual rate for the other services he provides. And I promise to take good care of him.”

֍


	2. Chapter 2

I had of course been long aware of my half-brother's business; it was rightly said that everything was available in London for a price. And I do mean _everything!_

Coward that I was, I took advantage of Watson having to go into the surgery on Christmas Eve to make my visit to Campbell's house so that my friend could not come with me. He had taken the revelation of my new family member well enough but I did not wish to push matters.

I had to hold back a smile when I reached the molly-house. Not only was there not the slightest indication of its true nature but the 'London Gentlemen's Debating Society' notice outside was more than a little humorous especially when it referred to the 'hard thrust of debate', 'going into things deeply', and 'deciding who comes out on top'. And almost directly opposite there was the house of a prominent member of the House of Commons who always spoke out against such doings. Although there was always the chance that he used that proximity to his advantage!

Inside it looked a little like a hotel and I recognized Balan, one of twin brothers who I knew worked there, at the reception desk. He greeted me and told me that Colt was as ever in the library. The silent man's fondness for literature of all sorts was legendary and I thought it a pity that he had not been able to make a career out of it rather than having to sell his body. Come to that.....

I duly found Colt in one of the library nooks, curled up with Jane Austen whom I knew to be one of his favourite authors. He really had to know _'Pride and Prejudice'_ off by heart now. He looked up in surprise then smiled at me. I was reminded less of the legendary Samson and more of an overgrown puppy looking hopefully up at his master. 

“Hullo Colt”, I said carefully. “Campbell has asked me to help you out. We need to take a trip somewhere.”

He looked uncertain at that and was clearly reluctant to go with me which I could understand given what had befallen the poor boy of late. Then he gestured to his open-necked shirt.

“Not for that!” I said quickly. “We are taking a short cab ride so you can bring the book and read it if you wish. I just need you to trust me.”

He nodded. I felt humbled that someone so huge could place his trust in me and determined even more to secure justice for him. And perhaps a little more than justice.

֍

I felt that trust even more later when I had to ask Colt to sit in the barber's chair and have his glorious hair shaved off. He should by all rights have looked sad about it but the look of absolute trust and belief that he gave me throughout – I felt that this man deserved so much more out of life than he had had so far. 

At least he looked more like his old self later as we called in the British Library and I explained to my friend Mr. Breckenridge what I was hoping for. At the moment he had no vacancies but he knew that a part-time one would be arising in a couple of months' time and was prepared to give Colt a trial for it. The behemoth actually hugged me on the way out of the building then looked suitably embarrassed, but I smiled reassuringly at him and took him back to the house. It was Christmas Eve and perhaps what they say about it being better to give than to receive presents is true after all.

Coffee-makers excepted, of course!

֍

Christmas Day and I presented Watson with a handsome set of gloves which I knew he needed, as well as voucher for the expensive clothes store that they came from. We had a happy start to the morning and even better, my having been summoned to the police station meant that I had had to send my apologies to the family for missing our annual tortu.... dinner.

“You could always go later?” some horrible personage offered with a smile. Said personage was in severe danger of not making it to Boxing Day!

The room at Goodge Street Police Station was barely large enough for us all, especially with Colt's massive frame taking up so much of it. Across the table from us sat Lord Greening's daughter Juliana, an unappealing female (I shall not demean the term 'lady' by wasting it on her) of some twenty or so years whose trowelled on make-up had done nothing to improve her looks. Next to her was her lawyer, a man who reminded me that humans and weasels had once had a common ancestor. I and Campbell sat on one side of the behemoth and Watson on the other.

“We are prepared to consider a settlement of sorts”, the unfortunately named Mr. Weisel sniffed. “We would require a substantial payment of course and access to the records of this house of ill-repute to make sure matters are all above board.”

Records of which members of society have used the house's services and might therefore be open to blackmail, I thought wryly.

“I understand from the case notes that you claim to have proof our my client's assault on this.... female”, I said.

Miss Greening opened her mouth to complain but the lawyer was quicker.

“One of the locks of her assailant's hair was left behind in the assault”, he said triumphantly. “I would like to see him deny _that_ in a court of law!”

He produced a small bag from which he extracted a few black curly hairs.

“That is only part of the sample”, he said sniffily, “so do not make any effort to destroy it.”

“I would be foolish to destroy something that _exonerates_ my client”, I smiled. “May I?”

The lawyer looked at me uncertainly. I looked at my half-brother and he nodded before leaving the room. He was back in barely a few minutes bearing a cup of steaming hot water. I placed some of the hairs into the cup and we all watched.

Nothing happened.

“What is the meaning of this tomfoolery?” the lawyer demanded. I bit back a smirk.

“Your client really needs to weigh just whom she is accusing”, I said. “The police take false rape accusations most seriously and the penalty for such is a _long_ time behind bars.”

The harridan began to look uncomfortable for the first time. 

“This.... female assumed that by targeting a man who could not defend herself she and her family might gain access to the house records which would open up all sorts of blackmailing possibilities....”

“Sir, I protest!” the lawyer snapped.

“However”, I said, “although the real Samson was captured after losing his long hair, his modern counterpart has found his own locks to be rather more.... helpful.”

With that I reached across and lifted Colt's new hair-piece clean off his head.

“A wig!” the lawyer gasped.

“Not only a wig”, I said. “A _blond_ wig, all part of his act. He was unable to obtain a long enough black wig so purchased a blond one and dyed it. If the hair that your client _claimed_ to have ripped from him during his 'assault' on her really had come from my client, then the hot water would have removed the dye. This woman lied – _and for that she must pay the price!”_

I had almost missed Inspector Williamson moving into the room and even Watson jumped when he emerged from the darkness.

“Miss Greening, I arrest you in the name of the law for bearing false witness”, he said heavily. “You do not have to say anything but....”

She was indeed no lady judging from the obscenity she came out with at that moment. I think from his expression that even Campbell might not have heard that sort of thing before!

֍

I was, I will confess, more than a little relieved that Watson had taken my half-brother's line of work so well. And all had worked out most excellently; Miss Greening served a spell in gaol for her evil act while her father, whom she implicated in an attempt to save her skin, was deprived of his place in the Lords and had to leave London in disgrace. And Colt did indeed do well at the British Library although he kept working at my half-brother's molly-houses. Upon Watson's recommendation I obtained him some sessions with one of Harley Street's best doctors and the 'Silent Knight' finally began to talk – which as things turned out was just as well.

Campbell was of course delighted with my efforts and Watson (who I had so grievously underestimated) became in effect a doctor to many of his 'boys'. Indeed the only downside was that my mother, having been apprised of my reasons for missing her dinner, said that it had inspired her to write another of her stories and I really should come round to hear it.

I wondered what Antarctica was like at this time of year.

“It is London”, Watson said when we talked about the case later. “Our society functions as well as it does because we set high moral standards but still cater for human weaknesses and desires.”

“You are taking this very well”, I smiled. “Campbell too thought that you might not. Although he did say that if you tired of being a doctor in the next few years then there was always a bed in his house with your name on it.”

I had had the sense to be heading to my room as I said that and was through the door when I heard his shocked splutter. And I could almost hear the pout that came with it!

֍


End file.
